


Blue Silk

by wellthatsood



Category: Boardwalk Empire
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, M/M, Modern Era, Panties, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 09:30:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4386638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wellthatsood/pseuds/wellthatsood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"They were women’s panties, not designed to accommodate what they’d squeezed inside. But Charlie liked the tightness against him. He liked the gentle movement of the silk. And Meyer liked the way the pretty lace trim looked against Charlie’s skin."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue Silk

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't explicitly modern AU [it's definitely explicit; just not explicitly modern]. The description of the panties in question are definitely modern and this is also something I think Charlie would be far more comfortable with in a modern setting than in the canon—but the time period is vague enough that it could be canon-time if you prefer.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you.” 

Meyer chuckled; he had his doubts about that. Charlie’s threats were somewhat diminished when he was flat on his back, nearly naked, and already panting. 

“I don’t think that’s going to get you off any faster,” Meyer commented. He stroked the tips of his fingers along the straining bulge and Charlie shuddered. 

“Yeah, well I—” He bit his lip to fight back a whine as Meyer rolled his knuckles against him, “—don’t think I’m gettin’ off soon anyway.” 

“Well not if you don’t ask nicely.” Meyer smirked, but Charlie didn’t see. His eyes were squeezed shut as Meyer slid his knuckles across the silk. In any case, Charlie was still verbal, which meant they were not anywhere near the place where Meyer would stop teasing him. They were going to ruin another pair of panties, but that hardly mattered in the grand scheme of things. 

The silk fabric was stretched taut over Charlie’s bulge. They were women’s panties, not designed to accommodate what they’d squeezed inside. But Charlie liked the tightness against him. He liked the gentle movement of the silk. And Meyer liked the way the pretty lace trim looked against Charlie’s skin.  

He leaned down, keeping one hand light against Charlie’s crotch. Gently at first, he kissed along the line of lace, working his way across the patch of coarse hair to the other side of his body. The panties sat low on Charlie, taut along his sides and stretching just below his hip. He hooked one teasing finger under the waistband, but they both knew those panties weren’t coming off anytime soon—if they came off at all. 

Meyer’s teeth grazed the soft skin inside his hipbone; Charlie bucked. “Careful,” he warned, pressing lightly on Charlie’s stomach to keep him down. With a whine, he obeyed. Meyer felt Charlie’s fingers tangle into his hair. He was never rough about it, but Charlie needed to hold on. 

Meyer caught that patch of skin between his teeth. He nibbled, enjoying the soft punctuated moans he got from Charlie. Meyer could feel them too, vibrating along his chest. He kissed and tugged with his teeth, but he wouldn’t let go. He sucked—harder and harder, more and more insistent. Charlie’s moans turned to yips, which grew higher and higher in pitch as Meyer sucked skin faster between his teeth. Charlie whined and wriggled beneath him, but Meyer’s firm hand on his chest held him in place. 

By the time Meyer stopped and sat up, Charlie was breathless. And there was a deep, angry blotch set into his skin—a beautiful red, uneven splotch blossoming as though from the lace itself. Charlie quieted down, opening one eye, then the other. He stared at Meyer, something open and clear in his expression.

Meyer smiled as he admired his handiwork. Gently, he swiped his thumb over the smattering of broken blood vessels. It contrasted nicely with the midnight blue panties and the hue of Charlie’s skin. “Very pretty,” he praised, voice husky. 

If Charlie’s cheeks weren’t already tinged red with arousal, he might have blushed. Instead, he just smirked and hooked his ankles around Meyer, nudging him. “Yeah?” Charlie asked in a whisper, but he didn’t look at his hip. He wasn’t looking at anything but Meyer, a glimmer behind his lopsided smile. 

Meyer followed the prodding of his ankles and crawled over his body, until he was right above him. He stared down, and repeated, “Very pretty.” 

“Oh, shut up.” Charlie’s hand tangled in Meyer’s hair as he pulled him down into a kiss. Meyer responded with vigor, supporting himself with arms on either side of Charlie’s head. He kissed him, hard as he could. Charlie was pretty and _his_ and he couldn’t help himself. His teeth pulled at Charlie’s bottom lip now, as Charlie’s hands slid through his hair, brushing down to the back of his neck and along the collar of his shirt. Charlie’s ankles wrapped around Meyer’s thighs; his hips twitched up uncertainly. 

Meyer barely felt the rub of silk against his pants. “Steady,” he growled against Charlie’s mouth, between kisses. He didn’t mind Charlie’s subconscious request for more, but it was an exercise in patience and Meyer would dictate their pace accordingly. Slowly, he settled himself between Charlie’s legs, lowering his arms until he lay against his chest. Charlie watched him with rapt attention, short breaths escaping his parted lips. He licked them; Meyer wanted to catch his tongue between his teeth. 

He couldn’t resist. Meyer bit down, hard, on Charlie’s bottom lip. He tugged at it without looking away; he enjoyed the way Charlie’s lids fluttered with desire. Meyer moved along his jaw, kissing across the angles of his face and the patches of bristle from a hasty shave. When he reached his neck, he kissed him down to his collarbone and back up behind his ear. Charlie gave a needy sigh, stroking his fingers through Meyer’s hair. 

“Mey…” he breathed. He could feel Charlie twitch beneath the silk. 

His response was to bite down on his neck. “Don’t be impatient. I’m enjoying,” he teased, flicking his tongue against Charlie’s neck between kisses and bites. He reached back and grabbed Charlie’s hands from his hair. Holding him by the wrists, Meyer pinned his arms down against the bed, one on either side. A flicker of surprise and arousal passed across Charlie’s face; Meyer could all but see his pace quicken. 

He smirked. “Besides, you still haven’t asked me nicely.” 

Not that Charlie would get an opportunity, as Meyer’s lips were on his once more. His fingers reflexively tightened on Charlie’s wrists. Charlie wriggled a little beneath his grasp, but lay still. He enjoyed the feeling too much to move. 

With Charlie completely pinned beneath him, more desperate than ever, Meyer slowly started to roll his hips, at last giving Charlie some of the real attention he wanted. He could feel how hard Charlie was—and he was, too. But Meyer would take his time at first, kissing Charlie as he teased him with slow, steady friction. Charlie’s ankles dug into Meyer’s thighs, prodding him faster, but Meyer’s grip tightened in his wrists and Charlie behaved. Even if it was agonizing, he’d follow Meyer’s lead. 

But the feeling was too sweet, even for Meyer. Their rhythm built speed, the silk sliding easily against the front of Meyer’s pants. It wasn’t long before they fell out of synch with each other in haste, mismatched thrusts desperate against the other, knocking and panting and dying for more and more friction. For a brief, tempting moment, Meyer contemplated keeping on like that until they were both done—but that wasn’t what they wanted. 

And Charlie still hadn’t asked nicely. 

With a last, firm kiss, Meyer sat up. Charlie’s eyes followed, wide and desperate and just a little pissed off that Meyer had stopped. Meyer knelt above him for a moment, catching his breath. He brushed his hair from his eyes, fidgeting with the front of his shirt, before he leaned back to admire Charlie. 

Charlie’s hair was everywhere, a mess of dark curls matted with sweat and sticking in funny angles. He wouldn’t take his eyes off Meyer and he shifted from side to side, impatient but obedient. It was just sweat-damp bare skin from his neck down to the lace trimmed panties, full with the outline of Charlie’s straining cock. The silk was discolored in small patches, darkened with a wetness Charlie couldn’t help. 

Thoughtfully, Meyer pressed the tip of his finger against it. He didn’t much care for the messier side of things, but it was only a little splotch. He traced around it, moving his finger in wider concentric circles until the wetness dried from his finger. He placed his hands against the insides of Charlie’s knees and pried them apart, setting him wide and open. For good measure, he kissed the side of each leg. 

“Don’t move,” he said. Charlie nodded and licked his lips again, the uncertain expectation written across his face. Meyer never needed—or wanted—to be forceful in his orders; Charlie would listen, because Charlie wanted to. 

He started at the hickey on his hip. Meyer kissed it, kissed his stomach, kissed the top of the panties, and pulled the waistband back just enough to kiss the skin beneath it. He kissed to the side, against the insides of Charlie’s thighs, getting closer but never quite reaching there—until he could feel the tremble in Charlie’s legs, until he could tell he was _working_ to stay still.

He passed his mouth across the bulging silk. He paused, lips hovering, hot breath against the fabric. He kissed the straining material, mouthing at it as he might without anything in the way. Charlie whimpered. “Mey, come on.” 

Meyer switched to using his hand once his neck started to protest against the angle. “Yes?” he asked, as his fingers trailed across Charlie’s cock, the tips light as they moved up and down, up and down. He watched Charlie the whole time. He had fistfuls of sheet in each hand and he bit down on his lip rhythmically, teeth sinking into skin in synch with the movement of Meyer’s fingers. 

Charlie gasped when Meyer’s palm slid against him, dragging upwards in a firm swipe. “Is this what you want?” Meyer breathed, gliding the heel of his hand back and forth. Charlie gave a weak nod, shuddering. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear that?” He wouldn’t let Charlie get off so easily—in more ways than one. When he asked a question, he wanted an answer. 

“God, _yes_ , motherfucker,” Charlie breathed with a desperate laugh. Meyer was honestly surprised he could still manage four syllable words. 

Then Meyer’s hand stopped. He didn’t retract it, but he wasn’t going to stroke him either.  With delicate precision, he asked, “Did you call me something?” 

Charlie’s eyes snapped open and he stared at Meyer, bare chest rising and falling in short spurts. “Please, Mey, just fuckin’ touch me, please.”

That sounded much nicer. With a nod, Meyer obliged, resuming his rhythm against the hard silk bulge. “You’re making a mess of these already,” he commented, matter-of-fact as he might remark on the weather. They were growing more and more damp as Meyer stroked, slightly sticky where the tip of Charlie’s cock lay trapped. “You’re going to ruin them.” This time, there was more amusement in his voice—chiding, as Charlie thrust his hips in desperation. 

The high, shaky whine was enough of a response and Meyer grinned. He could keep Charlie like that all afternoon, and though Charlie didn’t share his sense of patience, he knew that there was a certain relaxation that came from Meyer’s extended teasing. After a point, Charlie just _felt_ and that was all—and Meyer knew he liked getting to that place. 

Meyer hummed thoughtfully, and in a soft voice, he said, “You’re so good. You know that? You’re always so good for me.” It wasn’t the sort of thing he said naturally, but Meyer supposed that even he unwound some in the bedroom. The more that Charlie unraveled before him, the more Meyer could say, the more he could express—even if it was just sweet words that made Charlie groan and thrust into his hand. 

“I should take these off.” Meyer tugged at the elastic just a little, tempting Charlie with his offer. “Reward you, for being so patient.” But he wasn’t pulling them back yet, just slipping his finger beneath and teasing the soft skin beneath. The tip of one finger brushed the tip of Charlie’s cock and he nearly jumped off the bed with a wild buck. He really was getting desperate. 

Charlie shuddered, groaning “please, please,” in a husky whisper as Meyer flicked his finger back and forth. It was just the chorus Meyer wanted to hear. His hand slipped out from the waistband and moved faster, the whole of his hand covering Charlie’s bulge. He slipped across the silk as quick as he could and Charlie ground his hips up against him, writhing in desperate need. 

“God, please, Mey, Mey, please—” Charlie repeated the string of words over and over, pleading in fragments. His back arched, his legs spread wide and wrapped around Meyer, and he twisted the sheets in his fingers. “ _Meyer_ —” he gasped. 

The fabric was so damp Meyer wondered for a moment if Charlie had finished. His hand paused, uncertain, but Charlie’s desperate cry and hurried thrust assured Meyer that no, it wasn’t over yet. “Sorry,” he murmured, pressing a kiss against Charlie’s knee as his hand picked up the pace again. Meyer swallowed, fixing his focus back onto Charlie. It was terrifying and arousing and strangely beautiful, to watch him unfold, to see how he wanted to come apart under Meyer’s hand. 

“What do you want?” Meyer asked in a low whisper. It was partially teasing, making Charlie say it; but another part of Meyer didn’t know if Charlie wanted the panties off at all. 

It took Charlie a moment to answer, as he grit his teeth and struggled for the words. “I—Just—” The rest was lost in another moan, another sporadic thrust of the hips. “Touch me, Mey, _please_ , just touch—I need—” 

Without hesitation, Meyer pulled back the top of his panties, tugging them down as best he could with Charlie’s erection and spread legs in the way. A trail of moisture clung to the fabric. Meyer tugged them down far enough to free Charlie’s cock; his hand was around it a moment later, moving quickly and easily in the mess that had been trapped beneath silk. 

It didn’t take much longer. With Meyer’s quick hand and all their prolonged teasing, Charlie came moments later, crying out as he finished across his abdomen. He twisted, whimpering and moaning, before he finally lay still—eyes closed, panting softly, with a heavy serenity falling across his body. The panties were still stretched taut between his legs, wet fabric straining against his thighs. 

Meyer climbed over his leg, gently pushing them together to slide the panties down to his ankles. While Charlie caught his breath, Meyer slipped them over his feet and took them off. He wiped his own filthy hand clean on the fabric—they were a lost cause anyway—and then set to mopping up Charlie’s stomach. 

“Thanks,” he heard his partner mutter with a sleepy warmth. Charlie reached down to pat Meyer’s head. Meyer tossed the panties aside and curled up alongside him, draping his arm over Charlie’s waist. He kissed the top of his spine, nuzzling against his back. 

“Of course,” he answered. He knew how tentative Charlie had been about all that at first—embarrassed, mostly—and every time he let go for him, Meyer felt like _he_ should have been the one thanking Charlie. It was messy and bodily and odd, but there was something special in it, because it was Charlie. 

There was still a dull throb of need between Meyer’s legs—but he could be patient. Charlie needed a moment to collect himself, to catch his breath, to enjoy the bliss and the heavy weight in his limbs. He’d be more than eager to turn his attentions to Meyer later, as he always was. For the time being, Meyer was more than content to lie beside him, resting against the heat of his bare skin.

But, never able to tolerate stillness for very long, Charlie soon craned his neck, reaching back to kiss Meyer. He missed, but that was okay. “So,” he muttered, with the same haze as someone waking up from a deep sleep. “We wreck ‘em?”

“Oh, completely,” he answered, with another kiss that actually made it to Charlie’s lips. He could look up ways to clean silk later if need be—or they could just buy more. Though they were pretty and blue and a favorite pair to them both, so they were probably worth trying to salvage. 

Charlie responded with a sleepy “hmm” of satisfaction and flopped back against the pillow. “Good. That’s how you gotta do it.” 


End file.
